


the next time that i caught my own reflection

by orphan_account



Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, idk how else to tag this, mentions of drug use, more of a drabble really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the next time that I caught my own reflectionit was on its way to meet you,thinking of excuses to postpone
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537813
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	the next time that i caught my own reflection

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song 'crying lightning' by the arctic monkeys

**He doesn’t remember** how it all started.

There was a bad race, some contact and a lot of frustration; Max couldn’t remember what pushed him to go to Charles, of all people, to deal with his problems, but something did and ever since then, he was hooked. Every time he’d had a bad race, he’d venture into Charles’ open arms and enjoy the submissiveness of the Monègasque.

Charles was like a drug, constantly pulling him in and wanting more and more, and Charles was so willing to both give and take, no question, no talking; just two _boys_ dealing with their own issues in their own way.

They never talked about what they were, no labels and no feelings; Max would use Charles in ways he knew the Monègasque loved to be used, all whimpering and messy, and there was nothing pretty about the two of them, but everything was beautiful and they’d relish every way they managed to make the other beg, just a little.

Months later, Max caught feelings and it was the single best and worst realization he’d ever had; best, because Charles was already _his_, in their own twisted, little way and worst, because this Charles, this _Ferrari _Charles was not his Charles, but some demonic entity wearing the pretty, little Monègasque as a vessel, ruining him with opium and sins.

He told himself he was done with Charles, but then Charles would call and Max would be over in a heartbeat, cursing himself for being so eager, _so hooked,_ but Charles was his biggest vice and when he’d look at the Dutch with those big, oh-so-innocent-but-not eyes, Max couldn’t deny him.

When he heard his phone buzz, the dreadful sound he knew belonged to one person and one person only, Max swallowed a lump and tried his best not to check the message, not to unlock his phone, but it was stronger than him because _what if it’s an emergency, what if there’s something wrong._

_‘Do you want to come over, room 402’_

_No,_ Max thought, _I don’t want to come over_. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own and he found himself locking the door of his own hotel room, an unwavering, strong force pulling him down the hall and he was knocking on the door 402, ignoring the twisting in his gut.

When it opened, Charles stood there, a teasing smirk on his face as he pulled the Dutchman in, attacking him with kisses so addictive that all thoughts of insecurity and regret washed away, leaving behind only the sweet, but bitter ecstasy.

And Max could taste lingering alcohol on Charles’ tongue as it swirled with his, could smell the smoke on Charles’ clothes from the blunt he must’ve finished just minutes before and Max tried to pull away, but couldn’t because it was Charles, and whenever Charles whispered a broken, _“Please, Max,” _he couldn’t do anything but deliver, knowing deep in his mind that he’d be regretting it sometime later, when he’s back in his room with nothing but silence to keep him company.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr](https://bakuturnnine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
